


Kitchen Duty

by BloodCrystal154



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Do Not Worry, Fluff, I'm dying they're so cute, Like the fluffiest, M/M, Soilder 76 is there for half a second, Who would win in a fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8612620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodCrystal154/pseuds/BloodCrystal154
Summary: McCree doesn't sleep much anyway.





	

Hanzo nods in acknowledgment to Soldier 76 as the man stands to leave the dining area. The older man nods back in earnest, nothing more than a simple dip of his chin, and proceeds to walk through the arched entryway.

The heavy footsteps of his comrade soon begin to fade to which Hanzo lets out a small sigh of relief.

It had been almost two weeks since he allowed Genji to convince him to join the recently reassembled team widely known as Overwatch. When he first arrived on base, he was extremely reluctant, if not down right nervous, to meet his new team, save for his brother. That day was a major turning point in his life; it was the first time he felt as though he had been welcomed and fully accepted into an admirably functioning and diverse group of individuals.

He felt as though he had found a new family. A new place he dare call, _home_.

His eyes widen at the realization, the edge of his lips quirk up just slightly. The thought was an unexpected intrusion, as well as a welcomed cognition.

Hanzo stands with practiced grace and gathers the remainder of the teams dishes carefully, as to not make any unnecessary noise and risk waking up one of his teammates. He deposits them into the sink then reaches to turn on the faucet to let the water cascade over them. He allows the liquid to loosen any stubborn left over food for a while before he begins to shift through the kitchen drawers for a dry towel.

Once found, he immediately discards it off to the side and, in turn, begins tending to the small pile of dishes. Many thoughts occupy his mind that he openly indulges in. The rushing water is a lulling constant for his abstract form of meditation.

His head shoots up at a soft, yet familiar, jingling sound and almost instantly knew who was strolling around the base at this time of night.

Hanzo can't help but roll his eyes affectionately because of course he would continue to wear those utterly ludicrous spurs on his shoes. The ultimate cowboy cliché.

He decides to ignore the steady rhythm of McCrees approaching footsteps, instead turning his full attention to the thin plate in his hands, continuing to scrub gently.

The telltale sign of McCrees arrival is the sudden hush that follows as he takes his last step threw the threshold into the kitchen area. Hanzo fights the urge to look up from his current task.

"Hello, McCree." Hanzo says softly, despite his emotions whirling about inside his mind, making a mess of things.

However, the cowboy says nothing and seemingly takes Hanzos greeting as an invite to advance upon him. The man tenses in response to McCrees lack of one, but otherwise says nothing more.

Hanzo is in the process of thoroughly drying off the plate he had just finished cleaning when he feels two strong arms, one flesh; one metal,  snake around his midsection. He doesn't relax into the familiar embrace instantly, just to hear the throaty groan of frustration he knows he'll get.

His wish is granted not a second later than expected, as well as the grip around his waist tightening somewhat. There is a head between the dip where neck meets broad shoulders and Hanzo hums in contempt.

He carries on with the task at hand, putting most of his efforts on not disturbing the man currently resting on his shoulder. They stay like this for some time, silently soaking in the others presence. They began to sway from side to side, oscillating peacefully to a made up beat only they have the absolute privilege of hearing.

McCree mumbles something the archer is unable to hear, do to the words getting trapped into the cotton of his T-Shirt.

"Speak clearly, McCree." Hanzo lightly chastised.

"I said," McCrees voice crescendos slightly, "That no matter what ya say, Reyes would totally kick Morrisons ass in a fight."

Hanzo deadpans. He casually sets a flower patterned cup back into the sink, and proceeds to turn off the faucet. He leisurely turns in the others arms and directs his full attention to the man now in front of him. It takes all of the patience he has reserved for his brother not to smack McCree right then and there.

"McCree," Hanzo speaks up. "I want you to tell me honestly, that you did not wake yourself up at-" A quick glance at the wall clock hanging one of the metal cabinets. "Almost two-thirty in the morning, to come and tell me something I know is to be completely false."

Hanzo decides to stop for a moment and takes a second to take in his partners appearance. McCree looks completely disheveled. His hat hung up for the night, nothing is in the way to even remotely hide the fact that his hair was askew, sticking up where ever It so pleased, he was wearing a wrinkled, half buttoned plaid shirt. His face twisted into something between surprise and faux disgust making the dark circles under his eyes all the more prominent. " _Excuse me_?" He sprawls a hand over his chest for dramatic effect.

"You are not hard of hearing, you heard what I have said." He pivots on the balls of his feet to face the sink once more. He resumes his chore, acknowledging the cold where McCrees arms once were, but feeling too smug to voice his thoughts.

"You're lucky you're gorgeous pumpkin, or else I'd have to prove ya wrong." McCree saunters around the kitchens island to have a seat at one of the many stool provided. "Again." He drawls from his vantage point.

Putting away the last of the dishes back into their respective cupboards and drawers he glides over to the opposite side of the island with ease and proceeds to calmly place his elbows on the surface. "Oh, is that right, _Jesse_?" He leans in ever so slightly on the last word.

McCrees cheeks dust a light shade of pink. "Ya can't be cheatin' like that," he moans, burying his head into his hands. "It just ain't fair, hon."

Hanzo chuckles softly into his hand, satisfied with the reaction. "Go back to bed McCree, I will be there shortly."

After a few moments, McCree does indeed rise from his seat but, makes no move towards the entryway. He stands up straight and reaches a hand out towards Hanzo, on the opposite site of the island and waits expectantly. The archer does nothing more than raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Do I a'least get a kiss before I'm left to fend for myself in the cold, dark, hallway?"

The reserved grin on Hanzos face contrasts greatly with his exasperated sigh.

He takes his time striding right up to McCrees frame before hooking both arms around the taller mans neck. McCree takes the implied invitation and carefully slides his arms around Hanzos waist, letting both hands rest at the small of the others back. He can't stop the grin that demands to be acknowledged as their foreheads touch. Hanzo lips tilt upwards in response to McCree openly beaming.

" _Wow_." The cowboy all but breathes the word out, staring in awe.

"What?" Hanzo asks before he can think twice.

"Ain't you 'bout the prettiest thing I ever laid my eyes on." McCree, breathless, huffs out a laugh.

Embarrassed by the genuine praise, Hanzo tilts his chin up so that there lips can meet in a ghost of a kiss. A seal of unspoken promises.

When Hanzo pulls away he is not surprised to see McCree still chasing after his lips. He rests his head under his cowboy's neck and snorts when he feels more than hears a needy groan escape past McCree's lips.

"You're killin' me here, darlin'."

A smirk seems to be permanently stuck on Hanzo's face. "You wanted a kiss, did you not?"

McCree looks up towards the ceiling as if it was about to come crashing down. He whimpers and his legs bend at the knees, resembling a child throwing a barely concealed temper tantrum.

Hanzo gingerly unhooks his hands from around his neck and playfully swats at his chest. "You are an incredibly ridiculous man." There is none of the usual bite to his words.

McCree unenthusiastically lets go of Hanzo's waist, reluctant to leave the mans person space he says, "Yeah, but that's what keeps things interestin'." He smiles broadly.

Hanzo, to McCrees immediate surprise and growing pleasure, gives a small smile of his own in return.

With a flick of his wrist, he dismisses McCree to go back to sleep. McCree does start walking in the direction of the entryway this time, but not before whipping his head back towards Hanzo and announcing, "This ain't over Shimada."

He continues down the hall muttering to himself how 'Reyes has freakin' _ghost powers_ there ain't a chance in hell he _wouldn't_ win'.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout with me about McHanzo I am dying inside.
> 
> Also! Should I do a seperate McHanzo multi-chapter story? I was toying around with the idea in my head, but I would would like to see what you all think.


End file.
